Unbecoming
by si ms. directress
Summary: Kylee Heusaff is unfortunately one of those wealthy interns striving for a job in Google. But when she lands in the leftovers, her hope fades. With a bit of love, joy, and fairy dust maybe her dreams might actually come true. (c) 2013
1. Chapter 1

"Ah-five, ah-six, ah-seven, eight!" Madame Cross clapped as the iPod dock meowed Pussy Cat Doll's single, When I Grow Up.

A trickle of sweat dribbled down Kyleanna Huesaff's marble-like forehead, as the Hitler-like dance instructer threw her hawk eyes around. It was important to BrightFlight Dance studio that it maintained their perfect and prestigious reputation, even though the people of Westchester knew about the owner's offspring, the terrible little demon-prodigy, Kyleanna Huesaff; the top dance star.

Kyleanna enjoyed anything connected to dancing. It was in her heart, and her current life. She spent her whole life training to be a professional dancer on Broadway, just like her idol, her deceased mother. Thank goodness, she received her father's perseverance in terms of studying, because even she knew that dancing couldn't always land her a paycheck.

Her I.Q was perfect. Too perfect, which made the women of the town gossip about it until now like Justin Bieber.

Not only did Kyleanna had the talent of moving her body to the beat and slight photographic memory, but she also inherited her mother's stunning looks, and her perma-straightened-like brown hair.

A sudden knock on the studio door made Madame Cross narrow her icy blue eyes. She turned to her dancers and told them to take five.

As Kyleanna (or Kyle) stretched with the others, she calculated the rhythmic steps Madame Cross' takes to the time she would probably get back, wondering if she would start in exactly 3.6 minutes.

"Kyle Heusaff." The instructor stated. The other girls around the studio stared at her Kyle like she was a cow who suddenly found herself in a dance studio. Oh crap, was she in trouble?

Minutes later, the little dancer found herself in her dad's office.

The 50-something man stared at his daughter, flicking his fingers and saying to sit on the chair.

Kyle slid down and faced her father, probably the most protective one in the world. She noticed he smelled like roses today. Ew.

"Kyle. We have a problem." His voice lowered.

The sweat on her forehead was apparent. "Problem. Omyglob. What problem is it?"

"Monetary problems."

Kyle sinked in her leather seat. Money? She knew her father had squillions of money, why?

"Kyle, you're 22. While I'm looking for some half-time work, you should too."

At thirty-eight thousand feet above land, Kyle tried to look for her fallen lipgloss. It was one of her favorite flavor: Cinnamon Sugar, and no way was she going to lose it.

It wasn't in her seat, nor in the empty seat beside her. She was getting sweaty. She was quite fast at receiving sweat these days.

Trying to relax, she slid in her seat, wishing to forget about the lipgloss matter.

Her memories went back to yesterday. Ugh. It was horrible. Her dad insisted her to work in Google, and guess what, he already applied for an internship for her. So here she was, in the plane heading for California.


	2. Chapter 2

As Kyle walked in Google headquarters, her main initiative was to receive her key card first, seeing there were hundreds of teenagers walking.

"Kyleanna Heusaff." She stated, showing her lips so puffy collagen was no need. The lady behind the desk grinned back, showing two yellow teeth and handed her a card key which held the numbers 145 on it's sleek back.

After she deposited her Louis Vuittons' in her room, she went inside the specific location designated for intern arrival. A man passed out dorky 'Noogler' hats, which Kyle reluctantly accepted but stashed hers inside her Coach bag.

The high-ceiling room was full of college geniuses, except for the 40-looking guys who just walked past Kyle.

She couldn't see any fellow Harvard-noogler- but of course, there were students crawling in every corner.

Suddenly, a man from Indian descent marched in the room, a group of high class - looking workers trailing by.

Kyle slid down the step and crossed her arms - this is going to be long, she knew it.

"Welcome to Google!"

* * *

Kyle was correct at that point, the Indian man took 14.2 minutes to finish his 'Noogler' speech.

It was the next day, and she just grabbed a Green Tea Cream Frappucino from the guy downstairs when a short girl literally ran into the little brunette dancer.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry." The short girl actually looked sincere, but what Kyle learned from her hometown, was to never trust anybody, even how cute her gold bangles around her left wrist are.

Kyle stared at the dripping green cream on her DKNY dress and groaned silently. "I'm really sorry," the girl once again begged for her forgiveness. The mocha-skinned girl looked like a little puppy, cute but no bark. Harmless and too innocent.

Sigh.

"It's fine," she rolled her brown eyes and edged away from the girl, scrubbing her dress with a tissue paper she grabbed from a nearby table.

Today was the day the interns were going to be sorted in groups, and she hoped- no, she knew she was going to grouped with the A-listers.

They say don't get your hopes too high, but she did. Her hopes were sky-high. She was a Harvard student, for goodness sake. She was destined for greatness.

But apparently, in Google, she wasn't.

Unfortunately, she was a leftover.

As they followed their team manager, Lyle, Kyle took the liberty in taking in her new groupies.

Shockingly, the mocha-skinned Green Tea Cream Frap - destroyer was there too, as Kyle took her as one of those smartypants crafted from Yale. She looked quite nervous in her yellow sun dress and kept anxiously scratching her right cheek.

The two forty-year-old-looking men were leftovers too, no surprise there.

On Kyle's left side, a short guy with Filipino descent kept tugging his right eyebrow, a look of nervousness clear on his face.

The last guy trailed after them with a cold demeanor. Black-rimmed glasses stood upon his nose bridge and a black beanie partially engulfed his brown hair, and it seemed that the cellular phone on his hands forced him to be in another dimension.

"Hey Lyle's your team manager..."

Kyle almost dozed off on Lyle's third person speech when the glasses dude interrupted him.

"Um yeah, is Lyle always going to be referring himself in third person, cuz if he is I'm going to punch Lyle in the face."

The others were silent.

The glasses dude straightened his back and relaxed on the sofa, "Oh yeah, I'm Stuart." And then, Stuart went back to the love of his life, his phone.

Kyleanna noticed that Stuart had a smug look on his face. She smiled and face her group. "Kyle is my-" Before she could finish, one of the old men spoke up. "Wait, what? Your name's Kyle? What is happening to the world right now? Naming their girl children, Kyle. Oh wait are we gunna start naming guy children, Katrina now?

The group gaped at him until Stuart spoke without looking up. "It's a nickname, moron."

Lyle nervously scratched his arm. "Um okay, how about you," he pointed at the Filipino kid. "Want to introduce yourself?"

"I'm Yoyo Santos.." He mumbled.

"Uptop, Yoyo!" The old guy raised his hand, then Yoyo cowered slightly in fear.

The other old guy, Nick, questioned. "Do you get beat up a lot in school?" Kyle listened to them in curiosity.

"I was homeschooled." He stated.

"Do you get beat up a lot in homeschool?" Kyle figured out was Billy, as said on his ID.

"My mother had strict discipline."

After Stuart and Nick had an argument on breast milk vs bottle milk, and the mocha-skinned girl (Neha) was surprisingly a desperate sex-freak otaku, Mr. Chetty appeared on the computer screens, stating the first challenge - debugging.

Almost immediately everyone ran to the transparent wall, holding up their dry-erase markers, writing down a code.

Truthfully, Kyle was having a difficult time. She knew how to find a bug but the problem was she didn't know how to elaborate it on this piece of transparent shit.

It was getting harder as the two men behind them kept talking really fast about flies and bugs.

Kyle stopped her work and gaped at Billy as he wrote Flies beside her. "Flies has nothing to do with the problem right now." With a hair flip and an eye roll, she pushed back her sleeves and continued doing the hard task at hand.

"And that's a sharpie, idiot." Stuart stated with an edge on his voice as he quickly erased a mistake on his own explanation.

"Guys," Neha said,"we cant't understand you because you are talking really really fast and it makes no sense." She finished with hand motions.

"But to find the bug, we have to find the programmer!" Billy punched his palm and Nick walked in circles with his thinking face.

Kyle was confused when Stuart raised his head, stating: "How about you guys find the programmer?"

"Charles Xavier!" Yoyo immediately joined in.

"He's a professor." Neha added, "at Stanford."

"He's bald." Stuart continued.

"And he's in a wheelchair." Kyle finished, staring at the small wheelchair figurine on the far table.

"Charles Xavier at Stanford, ok." Billy said.

"It's just a two hour drive." She winked. "You'll be able to make it. And don't come back without the information."

When the two men were out of earshot, the group of interns cheered.

"Ok, ok, they're gone. Now, let's do this."

* * *

**Hi Guys, it's me, MIKACHU! :3 Ok, so please review this story. I already written the third chapter 1k + words. I won't post it until I get some reviews.. :) So seriously, review. KK HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS STUPID FANFIC, love MIKACHU**


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